


Future Husband

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Counter Sex, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Darcy’s crush on her neighbor was more or less guaranteed from the moment she saw him for the first time six months ago.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 52
Kudos: 524
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019





	Future Husband

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zephrbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephrbabe/gifts).



> I was prompted by zephrbabe. I was enabled by everyone else, including sarahbeniel. This is also for my Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019 square "E2: AU: Neighbors".
> 
> I wanted to write an older Steve Rogers. I have a Type. If you squint you may be able to discern it...

_It goes on and on, I don't know what I want_  
_On and on, I don't know if I want it_  
**\- "Creature Comfort" by Arcade Fire**

_Favorite friend (and nothing's wrong when nothing's true)_  
_I live in a hologram with you_  
**\- "Buzzcut Season" by Lorde**

_Stick to the path_  
_I can't stick to the path_  
_'Cause I dream about nothing but you_  
_Eat, sleep, wake_  
_Nothing but you_  
**\- "Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You)" by Bombay Bicycle Club**

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Every exchange was so short and fleeting yet they’re always her favorite moments of her day when they do happen. Darcy’s crush on her neighbor was more or less guaranteed from the moment she saw him for the first time six months ago.

-

She managed to move into the brownstone through a cousin of the superintendent. She otherwise would have never been considered a candidate for this type of apartment, and the rent is terrible but Darcy was always good for it.

She called him Future Husband whenever she spoke to Jane about him. Future Husband’s real name was Steve, and she only found that out after her first week there. She was throwing out the last of her flattened cardboard boxes and he opened the door for her in the foyer. He was passing through and his eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of Darcy, her arms so full she was beginning to teeter over.

“Let me get that,” he said, stepping back to let her through, and then he took one of the big squares of cardboard from the stack.

“Thank you,” she said, out of breath from the awkward trek downstairs.

The elevator shaft was out and the super was nowhere to be found, which was typical. Darcy was sick of staring at the junk in her apartment. She was sick of coming home from work only to never get anything else done because she was so tired.

He spoke like his gentlemanly moves were expected, his voice low and muttering as he narrated his movements as he put the cardboard against the dumpster outside.

“That can go… there…”

He stood back, their eyes meeting. Darcy held up a hand.

“We’ve already met, I, uh, I think I live across the hall from you,” she said, both of them moving back toward the front door, Future Husband taking hold of the solid wood to push it with his hand.

He wore a pair of slacks with a belt, his flannel shirt tucked in, the sleeves rolled down to his elbows. His hands were large and clean. His nails short, and she suspected he sometimes bit them by the blunt length of them.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, and she stepped inside, ducking past him.

He smelt of aftershave. Darcy hoped he couldn’t smell her.

“Darcy,” she said. She went to shake his hand before snatching it back a second later. “Uh, probably shouldn’t. Hands are dirty.”

“Right,” he said, a smile forming on his face.

The truth was that Darcy knew exactly where he lived. She’d seen him coming and going, had heard him some other times. The familiar jangle of keys fitting into locks, sometimes a whistle that never lasted longer than a couple seconds at a time, as if he didn’t want an audience.

“I’m Steve,” he said. “I shoulda… said somethin’. Not the best neighbor.”

She waved him off. She wasn’t sure she could stand him smiling at her much longer. He was gorgeous, like some ex-high school footballer. She didn’t know how old he was, but if she had to guess he was definitely in the category she favored – late thirties with still some boyish features to him. His face hadn’t softened and didn’t seem to have much fat on him, either. She wondered what he did. Maybe he was a hot doctor, or spent his time as a volunteer firefighter.

“Thanks for your help,” she said, and he nodded.

-

Over the months, she saw him every couple of days. She tried to decipher things about him through what he carried in and out of his apartment. She tried not to spend too long watching him, afraid she was going to reach the creepy, pathetic territory of a stalker. She didn’t think he lived like a younger man. On weekends he’d stay out later but no later than her, and certainly he never made a racket like past neighbors of hers.

She didn’t think about him much at work, unless Jane asked about him. Being a research assistant meant they could either talk about two things – work or their love lives, and neither of them were up to much beyond the soul-sucking dating apps they scrolled through together in between work. While stuffing a sandwich into her mouth, Darcy mumbled on about Future Husband, the single blond man across the hall from her.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jane asked, and Darcy chuckled.

“Nothing.”

Sure, she didn’t know him. It was fun to put him into the perfection category – completely unattainable and therefore never truly intimidating to her. She never dated people as handsome as him. It was as if her brain pushed aside the courage to even try approaching men like him.

“Wait, how old is he?”

“Dunno,” Darcy said, her mouth full. “Older than you. Dilf material, definitely.”

Jane’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s like, your kryptonite.”

Darcy didn’t even attempt to scoff at the accusation, for she was certain it would only warrant an eye-roll in return, and she wasn’t embarrassed of her harmless crush.

“I wish I could take his picture,” she muttered. “Just to show you…”

Jane began to giggle. “Maybe I’ll stop by sometime and we’ll spy on him.”

Darcy took her up on that, inviting her over one Friday. It was dumb, the whole exercise of waiting for Steve to show up. They kept giggling about it, taking turns to run to the door to glance through the peephole when they thought they heard him walking up. He didn’t get in until after nine, and it was Jane who spotted him, gesturing wildly to Darcy like some ridiculous pantomime.

Darcy snorted, covering her mouth as she dashed over to the door where Jane stood, pushing her aside to look through the peephole.

“He’s got a great ass,” Jane said, and they both giggled some more, unable to control themselves.

He had carryout, what Darcy recognized as Chinese food, the familiar shapes of noodle boxes visible, the characters peeking through the translucent plastic bag.

He unlocked his door, moving slower than usual. He was probably tired, like Darcy had been when they first arrived together. It wasn’t until after she had several sips of chardonnay that she’d been invigorated.

She stepped back, Jane now occupying the peephole.

“He lives by himself?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, and she moved to walk back toward the couch, picking up her glass to take another sip.

By the end of the night, she was a little tipsy, swiping left and right, Jane having left an hour before. It was after midnight, closer to 1AM, and she didn’t want to crawl into bed just yet.

She emptied the trash and walked out to the garbage chute, hearing Steve’s door open a few seconds later. She turned back, seeing him standing there with his own trash, a little surprised.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi!” she replied, her grin wide. She thought of how obnoxious she sounded, her voice close to shrill whenever she got too excited. She hoped he didn’t find her annoying.

“ _Hello_ ,” he said again, chuckling. “Partying hard?”

“Yeah, if you count white wine and rewatching _Anchorman_ ,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat. “I mean, it’s hard for some people to keep up with me…”

She wouldn’t never speak this way to a person she actually had a chance with. It was her defensive mechanism, putting herself in the jokey neighbor category. She was sexless and silly.

“Sounds fun,” he replied.

He moved to throw out his trash and Darcy wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate for her to walk off without finishing the conversation. She wasn’t sure how friendly he was.

“Surprised I stayed up late,” he said, and Darcy nodded. “I’ve been up since four.”

“Four, as in, AM?” she blurted, and his lips quirked in amusement. “Holy crap, dude. Go to bed.”

They walked toward her door and Darcy paused as they reached it, her hand going to the doorknob. She could hear the canned laughter from her living room from where she stood.

“You… wouldn’t have had classes today, or -?”

She tilted her head, a little confused by his question, and he shook his head a little, cutting himself off, backtracking.

“I didn’t ask if you were in school…”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m a research assistant. Astrophysics.”

She saw the pleasant surprise on his face, the way he blinked at her, perhaps his own assumptions about her way off.

“Not that I know anything about it,” she added. “What about you?”

“I’m a teacher,” he said, and Darcy felt herself smile. His Brooklyn accent was coming through more.

She pictured her sitting in his class, her chin in her hands as he wrote on a chalkboard. She could imagine his students fighting for his attention. She wondered why he was out so late if he was meant to be only working until 5. Perhaps he was a workaholic, staying way past what was expected of him.

“Parent-teacher conferences tonight,” he added, and Darcy nodded.

And then she remembered when she’d managed to see him once before 7AM one Sunday morning. She’d been violently hungover at the time, probably still drunk when she managed to get up the stairs, her head throbbing as she stumbled to her front door. Steve had been coming back from a run, sweating and panting when he reached his door opposite her.

He’d been up since 4AM to exercise before he went to work. It was so foreign to Darcy, so adult that she was embarrassed of her own laziness.

“I won’t keep you up any longer,” Darcy said, hoping she sounded more grown up.

She cringed inwardly as she remembered she’d just called him ‘dude’, like her vocabulary was so comically limited by age and inexperience.

“Right,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed.

-

They were like two passing ships. She’d arrive as he was leaving. Sometimes he was turning in for the night just as she was ready to leave.

It never went beyond light, superficial things. In May, there was a heat wave and Darcy kept running into him in the afternoon, the days getting longer, and she never managed to not be sweaty around him.

“It’s hot again,” she said with a little laugh, rolling her eyes. Gosh, what a world…

“Yeah,” he said.

He saw her dressed to the nines when she was going to a wedding, a cousin’s in Manhattan. She layered makeup on, shoved a dress over her head, spritzed herself with Flowerbomb perfume and hoped to God none of it was sweated off in the process. She was yanking her shoes, her door ajar as she tucked her handbag under her arm, huffing.

“Hello,” he said walking past her with a newspaper, wearing his running gear.

She tried to not think about his dick flopping around in those shorts. She also tried to not think about him naked and sweaty when he peeled everything off to step into his shower, which she knew he was about to do.

“Hey,” she replied, feeling a blush across her cheeks, her body betraying her yet again.

She knew nothing would ever come of their little interactions, but she preferred to not supply him with every embarrassing moment of her day.

“Going to a wedding,” she said, though he hadn’t asked. She tried to fill the silence, checking her bag for her keys and emergency tampons and whatever else she could possibly need.

“Whereabouts?” he asked.

“St. Michael's,” she said, shoving her Metrocard into her wallet haphazardly.

She thought about adding some kind of bitchy commentary. Her cousin managed to trick some real estate guy and Darcy’s whole family thought he was kind of a douche, and his family was part of the 1%, but she wasn’t going to vent any of this stuff to Steve.

“You gonna be warm enough?” he asked, which threw her completely.

“What?”

“There’s meant to be a cool change comin’ through,” he added, moving to unlock his door. His eyes went to her bare arms. “You don’t have a jacket.”

“Isn’t it, like, 103 out there right now?” she said, putting a hand on her hip.

Her dress was a modest floral tea dress that covered her knees, and the neckline completely covered her chest. Even her shoes, the flat cream-colored patent leather shoes she borrowed from Jane were pretty unsuitable for the heat already. She’d even debated wearing tights before.

“Yeah,” he replied, bursting into a smile.

She watched him slip inside his apartment without another word, and she felt her stomach flip, the blush deepening on her face.

Maybe he made fun of her, talked about her with his colleagues at school. She was this younger neighbor that had only had one thing in common with him – his address. She mimicked her dumb little voice in her head as she got on the subway, gripping the pole beside her, the car sweltering, her brow damp with sweat.

Why didn’t she ever think before she said anything? She sounded like a caricature. She thought of women in older generations, and how her own grandmother had already married and had Darcy’s mother by the time she was twenty-one, and here was Darcy, almost twenty-three, and barely functioning. Steve most likely had health insurance and visited a goddamn dentist twice a year.

The wedding itself was a pretty standard affair. She didn’t think anyone was going to tear up except her cousin. Darcy managed to get through it by nursing several drinks throughout the afternoon and night. The reception seemed to drag on and on, and she wasn’t in the mood for dancing. Another cousin, whose husband was drunk and stumbling around the dance floor, was sitting with Darcy as they watched everyone jump up and down to the YMCA. The whole crowd, including the sober small children, were all terribly out of time with the music.

Her cousin sighed a little, looking down at the dregs in her glass, watching her husband. Darcy recalled he was probably the same age as Steve, but he seemed like an entirely different breed of person. He was the type of guy who paid attention to Darcy – whether she liked it or not. Her cousin’s eyebrows skyrocketed as the husband came over, attempting to pull his wife from her chair.

“Come on…”

“You’re drunk,” she said, laughing at him. She looked embarrassed.

He relented with an exaggerated sigh, turning to Darcy, offering his hand.

“Whaddabout you, Lewis?” he said, and Darcy crossed her arms, quirking her brow. “Unless there’s some other little punk around here you’d rather grind with…”

“Shut up, Daryl,” Darcy’s cousin hissed. “You’re such a goddamn cliché. Leave her alone… I’ll join you later.”

They all knew it was a blatant lie. The cousin hadn’t danced all night, and the later it got, the less likely she was even going to deign to speak to her drunken spouse at all.

Daryl scoffed, eyes still glued to Darcy.

“No boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Darcy said, popping the word. “Never.”

She drank, their eyes glued to one another, until Daryl drew back finally, a different glint to his eye. He seemed to sober up, at least enough for Darcy to feel like he was watching her with some type of intent.

“I’m sorry about him,” her cousin said when they were finally left alone.

Darcy gave a shrug of her shoulders, watching Daryl leave. She could blame the free booze, but she thought of what it was like for her cousin to screw him regularly enough. She wondered what it was like, being with a man with more life experience. A man with crow’s feet starting to appear, his knees aching more.

Steve neglected to mention the rain that was supposed to be coming with the temperature drop. The first flash of lightning appeared outside the window of the hotel ballroom, followed by a clap of thunder, and Darcy’s heart sank a little, thinking of her having to get home so late with no umbrella.

Waving her cousin goodbye with the rest of her extended family, Darcy felt hollow. She was happy for her, in a way, but she also couldn’t comprehend it. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said to Daryl “never”. She never seemed to have a boyfriend.

She took the subway back. She ducked under cover at every chance she got as she tried to move as fast as possible through the heavy rain. She nearly fell over on the sidewalk just outside her apartment building, feeling she was soaked despite her best efforts. She hoped in vain to not have any witnesses to her drowned rat look. Instead, Steve was taking out the trash when she got to her door, his eyes widening.

“Ran kinda late?” he said, and she looked over at him before she averted her gaze, fiddling with her keys.

“Yeah,” she replied eventually, feeling so stupid and childish. She knew she was projecting, but he was looking at her like before, all concerned, and she was trying not to like it so much.

It came across as protective, almost paternal, when his eyes watch her hair dripping rain water on the carpet. She shivered, jamming her key in the door.

She fantasized about him taking her temperature, wrapping her up in a blanket and tucking her in bed, stroking her forehead. Then she rolled over onto her stomach and came within seconds of grazing her clit with her thumb, thinking of his broad forearms wrapping around her waist to carry her into his apartment. She muffled her moan in her pillow, paranoid he could somehow hear her, even though it was almost midnight and her TV was playing softly in the living room.

Every time she touched herself with Steve on her mind, she felt pathetic afterwards, and a little lonely. For a fleeting moment, she thought of their roles reversed, him jerking off in the shower to her, and maybe she’d feel creeped out… and then she’d get turned on again, knowing full well that if he even for a second thought of her that way she’d revel in the attention.

-

She didn’t want to be alone, though Tinder was so depressing. She got some nice messages among the quagmire. A couple times she stayed on her account settings for too long, wondering if she could see herself increasing the ideal age of her matches.

Every time she considered it, her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. If she was attracted to that age range, maybe she could embrace it. She considered the types of guys over thirty-five using Tinder to find girls…

For less than an hour, she browsed the options, and she didn’t know if she could do that to herself, actually put herself out there. What if she actually wasn’t into it, and she put herself through awkward interactions only to feel worse about her dating situation?

She kept picturing Steve in filthy ways. A week after the wedding, it rained again, and she got a knock on her door on the Sunday afternoon, and found him standing there with a near-sheepish look on his face.

“Hey,” he said, the greeting like a sigh. “I… have a bucket situation.”

Darcy frowned, and then he elaborated:

“Uh, I don’t have one. I either lost it or I took it to school and forgot to bring it back.”

“Oh!” Darcy exclaimed, and she stepped back, gesturing vaguely behind her. “I have one. You can borrow it.”

“Thanks, I was gonna go get one, but the leak’s so bad, and I’m a lil’ desperate…”

She turned, and she tried to recall just how trashed her apartment was. She kicked aside her shoes that lay by the door, walking down her hallway and past the living room to the little cupboard that stored her cleaning products and a ton of other junk. Instead of finding Steve right behind her, she’d lost him somewhere in the hallway and she walked the few steps back, spotting him staring at a framed print of hers.

“This yours?” he asked, and she tilted her head.

“It didn’t come with the apartment,” she replied, and he blinked at her, a breath of a laugh escaping as if he was surprised by her comment and she smiled at him.

“I’m an art teacher,” he murmured, moving away, following her to the open cupboard. “I… appreciate an Edward Hopper.”

She was flattered. Hardly anyone ever noticed her print. It was the 1950 painting _Office in a Small City_ , and Darcy was drawn to Hopper since high school. She’d always dreamt of having more, but her budget didn’t allow her that often.

“Twenty-first birthday present to myself,” she murmured.

She crouched to retrieve the only bucket she owned, tipping the bottle of Windex out before handing it to Steve.

“The handle’s kind of janky, but –”

“No, it’s fine, thank you,” he said, taking it from her, nodding. “I’ll bring it back soon, I hope. You’re allowed to chase after me about it…”

Her phone vibrated loudly in Darcy’s hand, making her jolt and she glanced down at it, unlocking it.

“Sorry.”

“No, go ahead, I was probably interuptin’ somethin’…”

He walked back to the Hopper print, staring at it for a few seconds while Darcy saw another Tinder message, a guy named Bryce who she’d spoken to over the weekend several times. He kept asking her if she wanted to come out to Coney Island, and Darcy didn’t know how serious he was.

“Twenty-first birthday, huh?” he murmured, and Darcy looked up from her phone.

He was looking straight at her and she lowered her phone to her hip, feeling it buzz again, Bryce on a roll.

“I didn’t drink that night,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “Not really my scene… you can probably tell that from the Hopper painting I wanted instead of going to a club…”

He smiled again, seeming unable to help himself, glancing back at the painting.

“It’s… it’s a powerful image. My students don’t always respond so well to art,” he murmured. “They call it old, they sorta… shrug it off.”

She always thought her nerdy side was dorky as hell. She was nerdy in high school and she was never mocked for it. It didn’t make her friends more easily, though. She was always so introverted, so overlooked. Again, she pictured herself as Steve’s student, so eager to please, probably overbearing to him and the subject to derision in the teacher’s lounge at lunch.

“Is it inspiring to you?” he asked, and she shook her head, making a face. He smiled wider. “No?”

“God, no,” she said. “I mean, I used to want to go to law school, but…”

She didn’t want any of that. She didn’t mind being a research assistant. Sure, sometimes it dragged on and Jane could be a little intense, but it was the first job she ever liked.

Her aspirations were a little more basic. A nice place she called home. A job that didn’t make her want to blow her brains out. Happiness or the closest thing to it.

“You need to deal with that leak,” she said, and he came back to life after watching her as she zoned out for a few seconds.

“Right,” he said, “And I’ll return it soon, or…”

“I’ll come ask for it,” Darcy said, and he nodded.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He let himself out and Darcy turned back to the Hopper, assessing it. Bryce was texting her the entire time, and she finally looked at her phone, seeing he was getting increasingly desperate.

-

She slept with Bryce after their second date. His roommate was home and the walls felt too thin for Darcy’s liking. She could hear the roommate going to the fridge to open a soda can and throw themselves on the couch with a loud burp, killing the mood as she was pinned under Bryce, their lips joined.

They broke apart and she gave a short sigh.

“Can you get rid of him?”

“How?” Bryce said, frowning. “His girlfriend’s here all the time… It’d be kinda hypocritical of me.”

Darcy sighed again, pulling him closer once more. She could smell his sheets needed washing, the air in his bedroom stale. She was pretty sure he’d used an empty box of condoms as an ashtray, the smell too strong for her to ignore.

“We can’t all live out in Bushwick like you,” he added, and Darcy pouted, making him smile down at her.

He had short incisors and a baby face, his hands gripping her tits through her shirt, sinking her further into the mattress as he caught her in another kiss.

She didn’t come but it felt good, her nails digging into his arms as he almost collapsed on top of her, temporarily stupefied, his brow damp with sweat. He rolled off of her, disposing the condom in the full trash can under his untidy desk.

“You want some?” he murmured, grabbing his little baggie of weed from the overflowing bedside table drawer, tugging his boxers back on before rolling a joint messily, his pink tongue darting out to wet the papers.

Darcy shook her head, instead pointing at the picture of Marilyn Monroe on the wall above his bed.

“I love that.”

“Yeah, she’s hot,” he said, smiling. “But you’re hot, too…”

“Thanks,” she muttered, smirking a little. “Except she was the hottest woman alive.”

“ _Was_ ,” he said, sticking the joint in his mouth and lighting it up. He took a long drag and held it, his voice rasping. “My ex left it.”

“Oh,” Darcy said.

So it wasn’t really his. She grabbed her bra and put it back on, Bryce watching her as she put herself back together. The room felt muggier, everything smelling of dope and sex. It reminded Darcy of a frat house after a party.

“You ever seen any of her movies?” she asked, and Bryce looked confused, until she pointed at Marilyn again. “Hers.”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all black and white…”

“Doesn’t mean it’s a bad movie if it’s in black and white,” she said, unable to stop herself.

She told herself to not overthink this, just let it happen. It wasn’t the worst thing, being around someone you had little in common with. They were both humans, both young and wanting some kind of connection, even if it was just sex.

“That’s like saying you won’t watch a foreign film because it’s got subtitles,” she went on, gesturing a little too much by the look on Bryce’s face, his frown intensifying.

“I don’t watch foreign films,” he muttered.

She left his apartment, not wanting to have to go through the whole night with him. She thought if she subjected herself to the next morning with him, she’d probably try to throw herself in front of a train.

She got back to her apartment, dragging her feet, feeling detached. Bryce didn’t pick up on her reluctance to stay, didn’t fight with her, didn’t bother trying to get her a cab or an Uber.

As if fate was mocking her, she saw Steve coming out of his apartment, dressed in an Under Armor t-shirt and a pair of blue sweatpants with sneakers. His eyes met hers as he moved toward the staircase, his brows lifting.

“That’s loud,” he said, and she tilted her head, confused.

He pressed his lips together, brows still hiked, disappearing. It took a few seconds for her to connect the dots, shutting her eyes and sighing when she realized what he meant.

Weed was loud. _That’s loud…_ she must reek of it.

Whatever he thought of her emotional maturity with the Hopper painting was probably gone, all because of that moron Bryce and her stupid choices.

-

She ignored the knock on her door a few days later. She was still too embarrassed by their last encounter, her arms folded as she settled lower into the couch, her TV playing her Spotify as she flipped through a paperback she was debating keeping.

She’d spent her day tidying in her pajamas. It was past three o’clock, and she didn’t want anyone seeing her this way, bursting this domestic bubble of hers.

The knocking came again and she closed her eyes, sighing loudly. She stood up, walking down the hallway, stomping her feet. She went to the peephole and saw Steve standing there, rubbing the back of his head, his eyes on the floor, his head tilted as he waited.

She kept very still, watching him pull in a breath and give up, stepping back. He turned his heel and Darcy couldn’t stop herself, she pulled the door open.

His eyes snapped to her bare legs and she remembered the plain white gown she wore that resembled an oversized t-shirt. She backed behind the door, her head sticking out as she blinked at him.

“Yeah?”

“This is stupid,” he began, and she couldn’t stop the smile already beginning to form because he looked sheepish again.

“What is it?”

“I need vanilla,” he said. “I forgot some when I was at the store.”

“You don’t have my bucket?” she teased, and he broke into a smile, the movement reaching his eyes, and she could see where he got most of the lines on his face, from smiling over the years.

“No, I’m so disappointing, I know.”

“I doubt that,” she murmured, and there was a pause when she rolled her lip between her teeth. “I got some. Hold on.”

She walked down the hallway, leaving the door wide open. She went into the cupboard, finding the bits and pieces from her baking phases. There were some old bottles of food coloring there with a loose bay leaf wedged between a packet of confectioner’s sugar and the pink Himalayan salt shaker. 

She walked back to the front door, stepping out to hand him the bottle.

“It’s imitation, that’s usually enough,” she said, and he nodded, looking down at the label. “You baking?”

“Yeah, it’s the last week of school. I volunteered to bake a cake… then totally forgot about it,” he muttered. “Thanks, Darcy.”

“No problem.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, aware that there was just the thin material of her gown and nothing else covering her upper half.

He stepped back, walking to his apartment door, slipping inside as Darcy stood there, stuck on how his eyes landed on her legs before, with her bare feet on the carpet.

She slammed her door, moving back to her bedroom, throwing herself down on her bed, grabbing blindly for her vibrator bullet on her bedside table. She switched it on before pushing her underwear down far enough to reach her clit, feeling herself already begin to melt as she pictured his face, those blue eyes staring at her skin.

She thought of him in his shower, his hand reaching between his legs to tug on himself. She imagined her mouth open, sucking the crown of him between her lips, moaning as she traced the ridges of his cock with her tongue.

It was too hot. She sweated so much already, on the precipice of her orgasm, hips rocking against the bullet.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she gasped, her whole body shuddering as she came, a bead of sweat trickling down as she crashed, panting in her pillow.

-

She kept seeing Bryce. Not because she wanted to make the most of a bad situation. She knew exactly what type of guy he was and she didn’t think there was any real relationship between them. She told herself she was doing this to train her for a different guy she found later on.

She’d break up with him soon after getting used to the idea of dating someone. She knew it was meant to be like riding a bicycle, but she’d never enjoyed dates, at least not since leaving high school when she had her independence. In middle school she had a boyfriend she went to a dance with and it never stopped feeling weird, and once they broke up, the kid had been relieved and they were friends ever since.

Using Bryce would only seem wrong if he wasn’t somehow benefiting from this, too. He seemed to be – especially with the regular sex and her hanging on his every word. Not that she was, she was mostly just repeating what he said to mimic conversation. She did that a lot with her family because she had so little in common with them as well.

She joked about her brain cells dying whenever Jane brought up Bryce at work. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by the situation she was in anymore. In fact, she took it in her stride, this exchange that Bryce was unaware of. She’d upgrade once she found someone better. Maybe a grad student, some guy who didn’t wake up after 2PM every day. She knew she was being a little hypocritical, since when she was alone she did the same thing – didn’t really take care of herself, lived like she was a frat boy with a seemingly unlimited supply of pizza rolls and canned beer…

At least she was trying in other ways to be an adult, surely? She was a good friend, she was good at her job. She supported her family even though they never seemed to understand her job, or understand how introverted and simple her life seemed to them.

Jane had other ideas.

“What about Steve?” she asked, and Darcy narrowed her eyes at her, a dumpling in her mouth.

“What.”

“Seriously. He’s single, right? You never see him bring anyone home. He’s smart and handsome and probably would rescue a kitten from a tree…”

“You’re insane,” Darcy replied, but there was no venom behind it. She looked down at her food as she spoke, licking remnants of soy sauce from her lips. “He’s probably got a girlfriend on the other side of the city. He’s probably got an ex-wife and a couple kids. He’s probably gay.”

“Well, it’s either one of those things or it’s none of those things,” Jane retorted, unconvinced.

Darcy didn’t think she’d listen to her anyway. Jane was usually too confident to not believe in herself constantly. Darcy hoped over the years that some of that would rub off on her, but…

She was being realistic.

“Please don’t,” she murmured, all humor gone. Jane frowned and Darcy moved on, determined. “I liked it better when he was just Future Husband.”

“Okay…”

-

“You’re so…”

“What?” Darcy asked, shifting in her seat on the couch.

Bryce was playing with her hair, and she didn’t like it. She should pull his hand away, settle in on the couch between them or at least tell him to stop, but she didn’t have the energy anymore. How come he wasn’t picking up on how little she was into him touching her when they weren’t in bed? Didn’t she make it obvious but the flat responses she gave him?

He gave her hair a playful tug and she glared at him.

“I was gonna say down to earth,” he murmured. “You just don’t care about all the stupid shit other girls care about.”

She was approaching a dangerous territory. They’d already had several beers. Actually, Bryce had drank all her beer while Darcy nursed her one glass of chardonnay while they watched _Futurama_.

“You’re not like other girls,” he said, letting go of her hair, a smile spreading across his face.

He sounded so stupid. How didn’t he pick up on that? How was he like this for so long with no repercussions? Maybe as a child, his mother told him he was handsome too many times, or maybe his friends all had the same attitude about women, that they had to make the most of a bad bunch of choices. Not all women but most women, am I right, my dudes?

“I am like all girls,” she said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

She turned her attention to the TV, feeling sorry for _Futurama_ having to witness this poor excuse for a Friday night play out. There was a silence between them, and every so often a joke would push through her defensive barrier and she felt less awful. It was after eleven when she turned her head to Bryce, wondering if he was going to try some weird way at initiating sex like he always did.

He never came outright and said it, or moved in any way that didn’t make her uncomfortable. She didn’t see the point in trying to dance around it. He’d clearly come over to fuck her at some point, and she’d let him drink all her beer…

He slid a hand up her arm, wetting his lips as he shifted closer.

“You…?”

She looked at his mouth, smelled the beer and pizza on his breath, thought about him climbing on top of her and scratching at her labia with his fingers, missing her clit, not taking her breathy cues when he did finally find it. Everything was just so half-assed.

Down to earth? Was that just another way for him to say she had no self-respect?

 _I don’t like him_ , she reminded herself. She’d chosen this little sexual social experiment to ease herself back into the dating pool. As awful as it was at times, he seemed like a nice enough guy.

“What?” she said, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, a little peck, moving down to her neck.

The little presses were annoying. Everything about this made her want to shove him out the door and throw him into a cab. It wasn’t sensual, it was a boy pawing at her and peppering her face with his beer breath, his dirty fingernails visible in the low light…

“No,” she said, pushing him back with a hand to his chest.

He pulled back with a smack of his lips, confused.

“What’s up?”

He had no idea.

“I want you to go,” she said.

She wondered if she could wait it out any longer, because she was dangerously close to cutting him off then and there. It was so tempting to get rid of him, especially with the way his frown deepened.

“What I do.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired…”

He went to kiss her again but she ducked out of the way, feeling sick. She let this guy be inside her, what the hell was wrong with her? Neither of them ever deserved any of this.

“You won’t have to do any of the work,” he said.

He had no idea what he was talking about. She usually lay there during sex anyway, passive and bored. A part of her thought at least she was part of the Sexually Active Club, and that had to count for something.

It didn’t. She was lying to herself.

“Please just go,” she said, folding her arms around her chest, hunching a little as she stood up from the couch.

He gaped at her for a few seconds, annoyance beginning to cloud his features.

“Oh, come on, Darce. How the fuck am I supposed to get home?”

“Subway. Taxi. I’ll pay…”

He copied her folded arms, looking at the TV for several seconds as he decided what to say, only to shake his head in disbelief.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, and then he gave a harsh little chuckle, so unkind that her stomach churned. “Fucking unbelievable.”

His voice had begun to rise and Darcy thought of Steve, since she wasn’t sure if she heard him leave before, but she’d certainly remembered him coming come. He was wearing his workout clothes again, covered in sweat.

“Calm down,” she said, which was the wrong thing to say, Bryce’s eyes flashing.

“Or what? You ashamed of me? In your fucking brownstone? Y’know, you’re part of the problem…”

“Shut up, Bryce!” she exploded, her arms suddenly wide. “You couldn’t even _spell_ ‘late stage capitalism’, so don’t even start to talk about the things you don’t understand!”

“Whatever!” he spat, finally getting up. “Waste of my fucking time…”

She began to follow him, waiting for him as he used the bathroom, watching him move through the house, picking up his keys and wallet to shove them back into his jeans. It occurred to her that he was drunk, since his movements were a little clumsier than usual, his mutterings slurred as he cursed her out under his breath.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get a fucking cab… fucking bitch…”

“Get out!” she snapped, pointing to the door. “Just go, Bryce.”

Bryce took one last look at her, shaking his head. He wrenched the door open, his shoes still in his other hand, before ducking out and slamming it as hard as he could.

She closed her eyes, waiting for his receding footsteps. He slammed the door to the lobby as well and she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes.

She looked around the living room, seeing the mess, still smelling him on the couch as she returned to it. She began grabbing the empty cans, droplets of beer spilling on her way to the kitchen. She scooped up the empty pizza boxes and thought about what else she could do to make herself feel better. Maybe calling Jane would actually make her feel worse, since this situation was something she chose.

She didn’t feel like crying per se, but it was tempting to scream in frustration, except she knew the apartment building had had more than its fair share of drama already.

She walked out into the hallway toward the garbage chute, fumbling it a little as she tried to not drop anything, and she managed to throw most of the trash away in one go, dropping a couple cans in the process. She stooped to pick them up and threw them down with a little sigh, shutting the chute and turning around.

Of course, Steve was exiting his door, but his hands were empty except for one beer bottle, a Japanese brand that Darcy always bypassed at the liquor store. He had a refined palate, probably. She didn’t mind drinking cheaper shit.

“Hey,” he said, opening the chute to throw it away. “Everything alright?”

She felt her face burn with shame.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “My… Bryce was so loud and I’m so–”

“Will he come back?” he asked, cutting off her self-deprecating rant.

The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but maybe it should have. She’d seen him argue with his roommate, getting stuck into it, and then he had been so abusive only moments ago.

“I dunno,” she mumbled, ducking her head.

“I can deal with him, if he does,” Steve said.

She looked at him, nodding. He was protective again, kind. She’d missed him, more than she was willing to admit. He’d been out more, probably because it was summer vacation now and he had more free time.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“No problem.”

She could tell it wasn’t a problem for him at all. He was moving on instinct, a paternal instinct perhaps that he reserved for his students and other younger women.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said again, cracking her knuckles without looking down, a nervous habit of hers.

The sound distracted Steve for a moment, his eyes dipping. He blinked a couple times, shaking his head.

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” he said. “I mean, it’s not fine. It’s never okay for a guy to go off like that with a girl, not ever. But I’m fine with him making a racket. I’ll know to watch out for him more.”

 _More?_ Darcy frowned.

“I didn’t realize you… noticed him,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat once more.

“A lanky kid like that, hammerin’ on your door at three AM?” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth, his tone dry. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

She had no idea he’d even been awake to hear her booty calls over the last few weeks. She felt a new wave of embarrassment. Obviously, if she was an adult and dating someone else, in all likelihood she was also having sex with them. But having someone talk about it, this neighbor she got off to sometimes three times a day was like having two worlds collide, and it was almost too much.

“Why is he like that?” Darcy said, laughing a little. “Why are so many guys I meet like that?”

Steve drew in a breath, considering this. She almost regretted it, since she hadn’t spoken to him about her dating life before. It went beyond weather updates and little waves from across the hall.

“Guys my age,” she added.

“I dunno,” he said, “But I remember it. Bein’ that selfish… being messy and angry…”

He shook his head.

“Anyway. Go to bed,” he said.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “You, too.”

There was a little laugh between them, and Darcy felt less alone, the feeling such a strong relief. The exchange was so fast that she could only linger on what he’d said after she backed away to her front door.

 _Go to bed_. It was authoritative enough that she felt the warmth of arousal pool in her belly.

“Darcy.”

She turned her head, her hand flat on the door, pushing it wider for her to walk back inside. Steve was looking at her from his own door, biting his lip for a second before letting it go.

“Don’t… uh… Don’t pick up, if he tries callin’ ya,” he said.

Darcy nodded, not sure what to say.

“Don’t go out with him again.”

Her eyes ducked as she nodded. He probably thought she was dumb, making choices like Bryce so willingly. She looked up when he spoke again.

“Don’t date those boys,” he said. “Okay?”

She nodded, and then walked away before she could combust from the mortifying ordeal of it all, for him to talk to her like she had no idea how dumb every choice was that she’d ever made.

-

She slept late, stayed in bed until close to 11AM. She felt angry, at herself mostly. She rotated through her social media accounts, feeling distant from it all.

Her heart felt heavy, her stomach churning with shame every time she recalled last night, and the way Steve looked at her with concern.

The thought of having the whole weekend ahead of her, lonely and restless made her want to wrap herself up in her dirty sheets and not come out ever again.

She finally got up when she saw one too many gym selfies on Instagram, but she stayed in her gown, feeling the heat of the day reaching its peak as she moved through her apartment, drinking some instant coffee and eating a handful of Froot Loops.

Maybe she could go to a museum, or an art gallery. Going alone might feel a little weird, but only if she pointed that out to Jane.

Bryce hadn’t tried to call her or text. He was probably nursing a hangover with weed and more beer, most likely bitching about her with anyone who’d listen. She wasn’t regretting him leaving, she just hated how it all went down.

There was a knock and she startled, holding her Windex as she cleaned her shower. She went to the sink, washing her hands. No more knocking, but she didn’t want to miss whoever it was. Hopefully she hadn’t been ratted on by one of the other residents. Losing this apartment would be just like Darcy, though. She’d hate explaining that to her family.

She moved to open the door, steeling herself. She kept her body obscured by the bulk of the door, seeing Steve standing there with a carryout tray for coffee, dressed in his sweatpants and white shirt.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

He was holding the bucket in his other hand, the handle repaired, and she could see the bottle of imitation vanilla sitting beside the two coffee cups.

“Yeah,” she breathed, because she wasn’t going to pass this up.

She liked him too much.

She stood aside, letting him in. At least her place didn’t resemble a dump, though it could use a vacuum and dusting. They walked into the kitchen, Steve drawing back a chair to sit down. She sat beside him, leaning on her elbow, waiting.

“Wanted to get you coffee,” he murmured, taking one cup out of the tray, lifting it to hand to her. Their fingers brushed. “Wasn’t sure if you did dairy…”

“I do,” she murmured. “How’d you know -?”

“That you like coffee?” he asked, and she nodded.

There was that goddamn smile that always derailed her thoughts. He made her blush so easily. She smiled back at him, unable to help herself.

“I smell it all the time. Really good stuff, too, I bet,” he said.

“Not this morning,” she muttered, glancing away. “Ran out of coffee grounds. Had to resort to instant…”

She patted the corner of the table between them.

“You rescued me.”

His eyes dropped to Darcy’s hand, and she thought about retreating, except his own hand moved from his lap, coming up onto the table. He reached for her, resting it on top of hers, his fingers brushing up almost to her wrist. He pulled back and Darcy took a sip of her drink.

If it wasn’t for his eyes, he’d see it as a sweet little gesture between friends. He was more than a stranger at least. His eyes met hers, his lips parting.

She put her drink down, feeling her stomach fluttering. If she was wrong… she hoped at least he’d be polite about it. She knew he’d be kind when he let her down gently.

Then his hand came up again and she lost all sense of her raging nerves, his fingers threading through her hair and gripping her, pulling her toward him.

His mouth slanted over hers and she shut her eyes, melting into it. She felt herself loosen, so warm in her stomach as he plied her mouth open to deepen the kiss. He moaned, the sound so raw to Darcy’s ears that she pressed her thighs together.

He caught her by the waist with his other arm, drinking from her as she sighed, pushing back to meet his enthusiasm, her hands finding his hair.

His chair scraped loudly on the floor as he got up, gathering her in his arms, lifting her up to steer her toward the counter behind them.

By the time he got there she was writhing under him, fighting with him, their tongues tangling as he settled her on the edge of the counter, hands gliding everywhere. There was a clattering of plastic cups flying onto the floor, the sounds distant to the haze of need.

Their frantic hands moved together to hitch up the hem of her gown, reaching in to tug at her underwear and pull the material as Darcy lifted her hips. The underwear slipped down her legs and Steve yanked them off her ankles, and he stepped between her open thighs, Darcy’s hands already tugging him by the waistband of his sweatpants as he sucked her lip into his mouth.

They broke apart, panting as they both undid his drawstring and pushed everything down, and she could see how hard he was already, his hand dropping to take hold of his thick cock, his mouth sealing over hers once more as he stroked a few times.

He pulled back, and she gave a nod, biting her lip as she watched him spit in his hand, his other fingers digging into her side.

The silence between them was flooded with keen anticipation made all the sweeter when his eyes locked with hers, the crown of his cock pushing up against her core, nudging her, rubbing her…

The air left her lungs in a gasp as he breached her, filling her so slowly. She knew he did it to be gentle at first, to test the waters, but the stretch still felt so sudden and overwhelming that her face tingled and burned, her cunt already squeezing him greedily as he sunk into her.

“ _Ah_ , fuck,” he gasped, going still, resting inside her for a few seconds as he broke away from her, pressing his forehead into hers.

It wasn’t like any other time Darcy had sex. There was no imbalance of power though he was so much larger than her, and he usually towered over her when they both stood. Face to face, their bodies locked together, his cock splitting her open, Darcy felt like he’d broken down something, a wall perhaps…

He began to move again, both of them moaning as his hips rocked, Darcy’s ankles locking around his middle, their mouths slanting together in a rushed kiss.

She grabbed hold of his hair once more, sucking his tongue into her mouth, the movement causing him to buck a little harder, something inside him breaking through, letting go…

Soon all there was to hear was their panting breaths, their mouths not quite closing as they kissed, Steve’s body smacking into hers, her hands never settling on him.

He slowed down, his hand leaving her side to slip under her gown to where they were joined, his face pulling back enough to get a better look of her face, watching her as he rubbed her clit on one side and then the other, his thumb pressing down when her breath hitched…

She instinctively tightened around him, their ragged panting matching as he worked her over, his other hand reaching around to grab what he could of her ass, thrusting into her hard and slow.

She had her arms around his neck as she came, gasping into his ear as he pinned her in place, her cunt clenching him hard while she lost her vision of her kitchen around them…

She felt him twitch and he grunted, shivering a moment later as he followed her, both of them panting when he pulled back from holding her against his chest, both his hands coming up to hold her face, kissing her deep and slow…

She could still feel herself twitching in earnest, everything sensitive, her limbs like lead as he kept kissing her, softening inside her.

It occurred to her that that was pretty fast, but she wasn’t disappointed. She didn’t think she ever could be, especially with the look on his face when he eventually pulled back, searching her.

“I didn’t ask if –”

“I’m on the pill,” she whispered, and he nodded.

She pictured him walking her to Walgreens to buy her Plan B and for a second she wanted that… God, she was a weirdo. Why did Steve looking after her become the ultimate fantasy for her?

He kept stroking her face with his big fingers, watching her mouth as she kept panting. He finally pulled out, and she felt the mess already trickling down her thigh, and she winced a little.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, and she shook her head, not entirely honest.

He tucked himself away as Darcy hopped off the counter, nearly falling over as she tried to balance herself on shaky legs. She made herself walk out and down the hallway to the bathroom, her mind reeling.

When she returned to him he was at the table once more, his eyes on her empty chair, his brows lifting when she came back in dressed with her hair brushed.

She sat down beside him and picked up her coffee, taking a few gulps. It was almost cold and she didn’t want to waste it.

“What’re you thinking?” she murmured, and he blinked at her, his jaw working.

He swallowed, glancing away, and she felt her stomach sink a little, dread deflating her. He met her eyes once more, and she saw it then – he was hesitant.

“Do you wanna go out with me?”

She felt her eyes widen slightly, her mind going back over it all, wondering what had happened for her to warrant being asked such a thing.

“What would we even do together?” she asked, like she had no social skills whatsoever.

“Something old school,” he replied, a smile forming. She amused him. “I was thinking of dinner and a movie?”

She stared at him before giving a short laugh, blushing further.

“Um…”

He took her hand from off the table, squeezing it in his as he leaned forward, his voice dropping. He nodded at the counter for a moment before his eyes swung back to meet hers.

“Do you have any idea how glad I am that happened?”

Darcy gaped a little, a nervous giggle escaping.

“I guess not,” she managed to reply.

-

The second time they slept together was after their first date. He took them back to his apartment and they drank beer while Fleetwood Mac played in the background as they sat on his couch.

He place was roomier than hers, simply because he had less stuff. His bookcase was overflowing, however, boasting a lot of literary fiction as well as classics and some comic books. There was no evidence of past relationships, and from what she learned over the last day together, she didn’t need to worry about a surprise visit from any child he may have had.

She didn’t let herself question it, what the hell he was doing with someone like her. He was so responsive to her, always watching her and finding excuses to touch her, to look after her.

She climbed into his lap when she’d finished her beer, feeling a little braver, feeling special, feeling so wanted. He carried her out and into his bedroom, his sleeping area smelling more of him than the rest of his place.

During their second time, it felt as if she’d broken down his defenses as well, both of them moving together with abandon, but somewhat slower than the kitchen counter incident, movements more like caresses, kisses consuming but languid.

He went down on her, tasting her, kissing her, moaning as he made her come undone, her thighs shaking almost violently by the end of it, both of them wet with arousal and sweat.

“Too hot,” she panted as he crawled up her body, planting kisses up her abdomen and chest before he sucked a nipple into his mouth, Darcy whimpering as her fingers dug into his hair once more.

A while later she lay in his arms, her hand idly stroking his hair, her fingers skimming over the lines on his face, his eyes closed as his mouth hung slightly open.

He was fast asleep.

-

Fall came. Steve went back to school a year older, and Darcy thought he might miss it, his youth. Maybe he envied her, but he didn’t seem to when his birthday came around in July. He seemed at peace with it, no longer being in his twenties, well on his way to forty.

Thirty-seven and so in love, he said.

What more could he possibly want?

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


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